'Till We Meet Again

My grandfather, Aden K. Riffle died last night in Ohio.
He was known by many names, Keith, A.K., Riffie, Fi Fi, Mr. Riffle, and Aden - even Rif Raf when being really silly.

Aden came late on the scene of the Elliott family but right on time in my heart.
He and Monday married when I was three and he quickly took on the Grandfather duties awaiting him through me, my sister and brother and our cousins. He remembered a story from the first time he met each of us and enjoyed telling it over and over, laughing the whole time. My story included an entire bowl of cooked carrots. (no surprise, I'm sure)

Aden grew up in Salem, Ohio on a farm.
He was a talented musician even in junior high and was able to contribute to the family income by playing with dance bands around Akron and Youngstown. After being drafted into the Navy during WWII, he had the opportunity to try out for the Navy band and quickly sent home for his clarinet. As he told the story, "God played his horn for him that day," securing his place in the band.
He traveled the South Pacific, primarily in the New Hebrides, playing with the various USO shows including Jack Benny and Bob Hope.

After the war he returned to Akron working in sales and organizing dance bands on the side. He even had his own, The Keith Riffle Band.
Eventually, he was introduced to my Grandmother through mutual church friends.
He retired from Pennsylvania Crusher as a purchasing agent and they enjoyed thirty-one years together.
He was an avid gardener - still the only person I know that grew a whole strawberry patch - and supplied Monday with all the zucchini she could cook. They traveled together and eventually settled into a routine of staying in Florida for a few months every winter. We joined them one year for a Disney vacation when I was little and later they would stop at Vanderbilt on the way down and back, always dropping off a big box of oranges.
Aden was a faithful attender at all grandchild events; softball, soccer, swimming, piano recitals, graduations, plays. You name it, he and Monday were there.
He even took on the responsibility of preparing me for baptism, reading through scripture and materials with me each Sunday afternoon.

In the last 10 years he became a caregiver of sorts for Monday and took to it well. He had moved into my parents' home after Monday died and was a welcome addition to the dinner table. Though his health and spirits were sometimes troubled he could discuss current events with the best of them, sports of all kinds, and in general could talk your ear off if given the room.

The boys will always remember going over to Aden's house, sitting up at the little kitchen table and getting to pick a cookie out of Aden's cookie jar.

He remembered dates, places, and people like it was yesterday and I hope I will be able to keep my memories of him in the same way.